


Freshly Baked Yule Cookies

by Maleyah (Katherine_Kat)



Series: The Disrepair 'Verse [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Holidays, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mal wrote a thing, Mpreg, Omega Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:07:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27839611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katherine_Kat/pseuds/Maleyah
Summary: Dean hates being helpless as much now as he did when he met Cas. And Cas is even more protective than he was, which is saying something.Add to that their immediate and extended family, who all seem to want to pack Dean in bubblewrap and put him on the couch until he pops those kids out and you’ve got a potent mood cocktail.During the holidays.Yeah.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: The Disrepair 'Verse [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1853482
Comments: 19
Kudos: 147





	Freshly Baked Yule Cookies

**Author's Note:**

> For those paying attention to the seasons, they were headed towards or in Summer by the time they figured out their bond and mated. So I took the liberty of jumping ahead in time to holidays, much like our end of 2020. I wanna say ‘finally’, but that feels like daring 2021 to do something stupid like be worse. So let’s not play “hold my beer”, shall we? 
> 
> Consider this a freshly baked Christmas/Yuletide cookie for all of you!  
> Hugs,  
> Mal

The Christmas lights in the garden are stuck on the wrong setting again. They’re doing that erratic, strobe-light flickering which is an assault on his eyes. He grumbles at having to go fix that next. 

“Dean.”

“How do you put so much warning in my name, I wonder?” Dean says innocently as he tries not to wince.

His heart, however, isn’t immune to the timbre in Cas’ voice and he knows that if he so much as looks up, he’ll cave to those eyes, likely burning red, and abandon messing with the tree. He already had to watch Cas almost shoot his back out, carrying it inside. He’s perfectly capable of moving it exactly where he wants. His Omega has a very clear image of what the house needs to look like and damn anything that gets in his way, including quite literally this pup-filled belly of his.

“Because my voice is starting to wear out under the strain of having to intervene so often,” Cas sighs, and Dean’s guilt almost trips him up. “The doctor’s instructions were _very_ clear…”

“Yeah,” Dean grouches. “Months ago. But I’m _not_ an invalid, contrary to what everyone seems to think, including you again…”

Okay, that was unfair, because Cas has been extremely tolerant of Dean figuring out how to navigate this pregnancy and the fact that it’s triggering old wounds. It helps that his mate is smitten with their offspring even in the womb and even more so with Dean. Who thought that was possible?

They’re on their thirty-fourth week and _by now_ , everything is fine. Kids are kicking up a storm, which keeps both him and Cas awake, and nearly always results in behaviour much like when they first met. Cas taking control and care, Dean forced to allow it.

As much as he loves the prospect of the pups - _yes_ , two, you read that right, thank you very much, and of course, because he’s equipped to stretch to _that_ size… who designed these blueprints?! And who signed away permission to hijack his brain like this, because he’s somehow _okay_ with it? - the physical and mental aspects of it are not nearly highlighted enough in popular media. But then, he hopes the payoff is to blame for that.

Thing is, early on during the first trimester and some of the second, Dean lost blood, _when he wasn’t supposed to_ , which had him in and out of the OB-GYN’s office and the ER every time, until the kids persistently proved their existence and health with their little, adorably supersonic heartbeats and continued tumbling around down there.

So once again, Dean was subjected to the medical world telling him it was normal and his body’s whims. And wishing upon every star he could see to give them this break. To cut them some slack. To not fail again, but that was very much his own pain acting up.

He doesn’t want to lose the kids. Fail Cas. And lose Cas as a consequence.

Because during those terrifying first weeks of figuring out what was going on, his heart got broken several times over.

Because he had to watch and smell Cas’ response to the possibility of their loss.

Which is when he learned he was (and still is) _not_ equipped for the emotions swirling in those blue eyes, while they got lost staring at the ultrasound. Then Dean’s face. Then his tummy, Cas’ whole body rippling with something deep and scary, and Dean felt his mate slipping elsewhere as he tried to _protect_ Dean from his own turmoil.

For a while, it looked as if they went out of step, and hell, maybe they did, but thankfully - because he’s not sure he could have survived that - they harmonized once more. There’s a deeply soothing comfort to be had from someone telling you they choose you over anything else. Even kids. Even a failing body, though he ought to know that by now. To be chosen in life as it is instead of how life could be. To be enough.

Surprisingly, in the wake of that, they managed with fewer words (for their doing) and instead resorted to lots of tactile responses. They curled up in bed night after night, pressed together closely, Cas’ hands on his belly or wherever he wanted them, Dean’s on either side of Cas’ face. Intense to the point of tiring, their familiar capacity to swaddle one another took front and center. And as they did, they took turns breaking down.

Dean reluctantly admits his continued fear of his body failing them once again.

Cas finally says just how deep his loneliness and fear of being asked to leave run. The concept baffles Dean. How could he ever ask Cas to leave? Why would he?

A shortcut through therapy, perhaps, but not an easy one.

Everyone’s fine now.

And really fine, okay? Not Winchester fine.

But the balance is precarious. Dean hates being helpless as much now as he did when he met Cas. And Cas is even more protective than he was, which is saying something.

Add to that their immediate and extended family, who all seem to want to pack Dean in bubblewrap and put him on the couch until he pops those kids out and you’ve got a potent mood cocktail.

During the holidays.

Yeah.

He grips the tree tight and nudges it once more with his foot. The growl that provokes sends a ripple of panic up his spine. Not the bad kind. Just intense and he can tell his expression is a bit off when he finally looks at Cas.

And nope, he still can’t deal with those eyes, even if they’re lined red and very appealing. The pregnancy made him so much more sensitive to Cas, it really isn’t fair.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, voice shooting up, and tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m s…”

“Hush,” Cas mutters, stepping into his space instantly.

He doesn’t touch his belly, which is a bit of a miracle, as his mate has trouble not doing so on any given day. Cas is a perfectly doting father-to-be and mate to Dean, whose patience seems to run on endlessly. Anyone else would have blown their top at Dean already. He’s convinced of that.

Cas, however, also drives Dean crazy, even while his Omega’s absolutely _basking_ in the Alpha’s attention.

But today those familiar, strong hands come up to his flanks, where they grip gently and pull him close.

“No squish,” he sniffles when their bellies make contact - which is instantly. “Too big.”

“Beautiful,” Cas says. 

He tracks his hands up Dean’s sides until they’re cupping his face, and oh, no, not that again, he thinks, squirming under the loving scrutiny. But his eyes flutter shut the next breath, when Cas kisses him and for a while, he forgets time exists. Cas’ scent increases with every soft meeting of their lips, holding that sweet balance, until the Alpha has taken full control over the moment and the tension finally seeps out of Dean.

“Where do you want the tree?”

“Five inches to the left.”

“Really?” Cas grumbles softly.

“Really.” He laughs against those lips, now pressed together in a tight line.

Cas shrugs casually. “Alright. Your left or mine?”

His heart expands beyond measure at how loved he feels and they slip back into preparing.

*

Castiel’s house has been growing bigger and fuller, metaphorically speaking, in the past thirty-four weeks and thirteen days. Pun slightly intended, everything is fuller. The wardrobe. The sock and underwear drawers. 

There’s a slew of coats weighing down the coat rack on this beautiful December 24th. Both the kitchen table and the coffee table are filled to the brim with dishes. A potluck of Christmas food and drink.

Sam and Gabriel, who aren’t an item yet - if you have to believe Sam via Dean, and who totally are - if you take Gabe at his word, which, don’t. They’re close though and it’s difficult to ignore the scent-bond that’s forming, even while the two of them are still figuring each other out.

Lucifer, willingly flanked by Kevin and Charlie and clearly charmed by the both of them while they bicker and talk, which is the strangest energy he’s witnessed in his life - and Castiel has seen some things. He never thought he’d see Lucifer laugh like this, while still holding onto just that sharp edge that makes him who he is.

Balthazar is taunting every parent in the room, which means he’s got Jody, Donna, Naomi and Crowley (the Brits are surprisingly tolerant of each other) to contend with while he completely riles up the youngest ones, chasing them around the table and through the garden. Bobby provides some counterbalancing energy with his indolent demeanour and no filter interaction. Claire is loving it, though her focus lies mainly with her friend, Kaia, as they’re pretzeled together on the couch, engrossed in each other and whatever they get up to on their phones. They’re on fire pit duty later tonight, together with Lee, who promised to sing a few songs, provided Dean chimes in. Castiel secretly hopes the boy succeeds at convincing his mate. He desperately wants to hear Dean sing, his mind already swimming with future images of tiny pups and lullabies.

Theirs is a full house, which smells like they’re floating in a vat of gluhwein and a ton of scents mingling, as a fair few of them are bare. It leaves little room for misinterpretation as to how some of them are feeling.

A chill creeps into the house every time anyone opens the sliding doors either because a child escaped (Juliet’s a menace), someone needs some air or a smoke, the whole garden aglow as if it’s overrun with fireflies. He squeezes the back of Dean’s neck gently, leaning in to ask, and gets a reassuring kiss with a murmured ‘yes, I’m warm enough’ in reply.

His mate’s eyes glow golden, when he lets his hands drop to his belly. 

“You two are somethin’ else. You’re making me wanna be pregnant again.” Donna hums, leaning her head on her hand, and smiles at them. 

Jody wipes some powdered sugar off her cheek. “Only because your brain deleted how miserable you could be.”

“Apparently it does that,” Dean grins, nosing at Castiel’s temple. “And ain’t it just awesome?”

Neither of them bothers hiding anything. It’s Christmas. Their whole family is here. Only a little longer before the kids join and their lives get even more jumbled up.

“Names?” Charlie asks for the umpteenth time.

“Smitten McGoogly Eyes over there might be getting tipsy,” Gabe says. “But Dean isn’t and I’m sure he knows how to keep Cassie quiet.”

“No fair that the godparents get to know,” she pouts. “Those kids are going to be spoiled.”

“Well, there _are_ two of them in here,” Dean says, placing his hand over Cas’. “They’re gonna need a pair each.”

“You can still change your mind,” Lee says in mock warning. “Once it’s done, it’s done.”

“Ha! You’re gonna do great.”

“Watch those regrets kick in the second those kids ask how you met me or Castiel.”

Castiel chokes on whatever word he was cooing to the pups. “I see no reason why Dean should have any regrets about that.”

Naomi rolls her eyes, while a little score of laughter rings. “Cassie, he’s teasing. As if anyone in this family is going to have any qualms about anything.”

“True,” Lucifer nods. “I for one look forward to telling them this story in excruciating detail, especially the part where their dad was being a complete idiot.”

“Which one?” Sam grins. 

“He wasn’t an idiot,” Dean protests, though Castiel knows he’s described both of them as such on several occasions, most notably when he regrets they didn’t ‘get to it’ sooner. “He was patient. What did you call it? Chivalrous?”

“I called it no such thing,” he flusters. “You accused me of it.”

“Hmm, I did, didn’t I?” Dean smiles at him. “Either way, it’s a good thing. I needed that.”

Sam slips past on his way back from the bathroom, giving Dean a quick hug. It elicits a similar response from both himself and Gabriel, their approval thickening on the air. “You still do.”

“The chivalrous part, not so much anymore,” Dean grins wickedly.

Sam groans, while Gabriel laughs, pulling Sam’s chair out for him. “You have no shame, do you? Stop upsetting our Samshine.”

“Dude,” Sam huffs. He doesn’t get much further, his eyes taking on that soft shine under Gabriel’s Omega influence. “Stop that…”

“Who, me?”

Castiel shakes his head, but doesn’t get the chance to head off the bickering that’s about to follow. Instead his focus is drawn to Dean, who laces their fingers together and inches in until his lips are near Castiel’s ear. “Hey, there’s one more present for you under the tree.”

His heart expands again. Basically his life has become dappled with endless breathing exercises. The slow, grounding type, where - whenever he gives into these moments - he gets to realize just how much changed for the better in such a short span of time, and just how much he’s willing to do to keep it that way. That said, Dean has a tendency to go overboard for his loved ones.

“You’re already giving me plenty,” he says.

Dean beams a smile at him. “Oh, I know, but… it makes me happy to smell you. When you’re like this.”

“You’d think we’d hit maximum on this stuff at some point,” Lucifer says casually. He gets a shove in the shoulder on either side, which saves Castiel the effort and he tunes out the rest of the table.

“Here,” Claire says, and she hands the present to him. “‘Cause I just know you don’t wanna leave his side.”

“Why, thank you, Claire, aren’t you a ray of sunshine?” Castiel says.

She parks herself on a vacant chair on Dean’s other side, peeking over his shoulder. “Sure. What’s in the box?”

“We’re about to find out.”

Castiel unwraps the gift gently, ignoring the impatient noises around him. Inside is a box, velvety to the touch, and he finds an array of items. He pulls out what looks like a sweater and as he does, two smaller pieces of clothing drop out. Dean helps gather them and his brain’s already catching on.

“Are these custom-made onesies?”

“Yes,” Dean hums, scent dripping with Omega elation.

“Bees,” he mutters dumbly. “Bees… with cooking utensils. And trenchcoats.” The onesies are covered in them. Small, chonky, fuzzy bees, wearing a trenchcoat or a blue tie or wielding little cooking utensils. He laughs, laying them out on his thigh. “How did you know about the bees?” 

“I have eyes? You have a shelf of books on them.” Dean eyes Lee at that, who smiles winningly, as if he’s taking his cue. Castiel looks from Dean to Lee in confusion.

“Yeah, there’s, uhh, another thing coming, but that’s a bit delayed. You won’t be able to use it until Spring anyway.”

He lets the sweater fall open, which shows ‘Bee Daddy’. “Wait… You made me a beehive?”

“He is,” Dean corrects. “I designed the clothes and sewed them.”

That’s why Dean insisted he go back to work. Castiel doesn’t know what to say, but Lee seems to gather some of his gratitude.

“There’s another thing in there,” Claire says.

“More?” he exhales. “Dean, it’s too much…”

“Oh, open it up already,” Gabe says, impatient. “It’s about time someone spoiled you, Cassie.”

“A cooking class for two,” he smiles. “With… oh, she’s my favorite celebrity chef!”

He wants to kiss Dean, but his lap is too full, so he grabs his hand and kisses the knuckles instead. Dean is positively beaming and his scent fills up the room.

“Riiiight,” Claire says, clicking her tongue in amusement. “How about we leave these two for a moment and get that fire going?”

"First the cookies out of the oven," Kaia says.

“Yeah,” Sam agrees. “We’ll start cleaning up…”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Castiel starts, but Dean interrupts him by pulling him closer.

“Great idea, Sammy. Kaia, Claire, you read my mind.”

Chairs scraping over the floor, with plenty of commentary, but a few moments later, it feels as if it’s just the two of them, even when it isn’t really. It never will be again, but that's okay.

“You wanna kiss me,” Dean says.

“Well, yes.”

“That wasn’t a statement. Or a question.”

Castiel shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at Dean, and leans back so he can move the contents back into the box to set it aside. Dean whines at him persistently, so he scissors their legs together. “I have one last gift for you as well,” he says, letting his voice drop low.

Dean shuffles closer to the edge of his seat, the warmth of him permeating through Castiel’s jeans. “Now?”

He shoots Dean a very meaningful look, allowing himself the smirk. “Later. When everyone’s gone home.”

Green eyes sparkle and Dean’s nostrils flare eagerly. “Cas....”

He surges forward this time, kissing Dean, unexpectedly heated and deep, relishing the whimper that gets. “Later,” he promises. “You won’t want the audience.”

“Fuck me, Cas, that’s just cruel. It’s been hit and miss, and now I don’t wanna wait, and everyone will _smell_ it if I start to slick and…”

“You mainly smell of life, little one. Want me to go get your blockers?”

“Nu-uh,” Dean shakes his head. He inches in, nosing at his cheek, and steals another kiss, breathing into him. “No disturbances, but you smell delightfully naughty, Cas. Will it involve music?”

He allows himself the dark chuckle and rubs their cheeks together, until he can whisper in Dean's ear. “As a matter of fact, it will.”

Suddenly he’s got a lap full of his mate. Dean’s laughing and kissing him, his belly pressed intimately to Castiel’s abdomen. “I managed to play nice with my gifts and then you go ahead and do that.”

“Hey,” he protests between kisses. “I got you perfectly acceptable gifts, good for consumption under the family’s watchful gaze. Figured you’d want…”

“I do, oh, I do. I wanna go to bed _now_.”

He flashes his teeth at Dean, relishing the golden glow that elicits, and hell, his Alpha’s basking in his Omega’s eagerness. “Fire.”

Dean chuffs at him and yelps suddenly, his eyes going wide, as his hand moves from Castiel’s shoulder to his bump. “Easy now, pup.”

“I felt that too,” Castiel hums, looking down. His hand lands on the curve of Dean’s belly. “Don’t worry… We’ll take it easy.”

Dean grumbles, conceding already, because they’ve been in agreement on that ever since. In fact, for a while Castiel refused to have Dean in any way, until the doctor gave them the green light. He knows they’re okay. Feels the proof under his palm, as one after the other kicks. Both of them are reduced to unintelligible, sweet nothings and headbumps, mellowing out their energy again.

“We should join the others outside,” Castiel says. “Sam is eyeing us. I think Gabe might be getting clingy. He does that when he drinks too much.”

“Sam loves it,” Dean says, as he gets off of Castiel’s lap.

He grabs an extra blanket for Dean on the way out. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm,” he hums. “Well, Merry Christmas to us all then.”

Dean’s golden eyes meet his. “Merry Christmas, Cas.”

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas/Blessed Yule, or whatever it is you're celebrating around this time of year. Maybe it's 'just' sitting together with family or friends, everyone safe and healthy, which after the year we've had counts for a lot.
> 
> In case you feel like spreading the love and sharing your favorite Destiel fics (which NO, does not need to be one of mine, but thank you if it ends up in there - I was already surprised by one of you recently), there is a survey being held [here](https://unforth.tumblr.com/post/637520925754032128/favorite-destiel-fic-survey) by Unforth. You can submit suggestions until December 31st. Because Tumblr needs more Destiel.
> 
> Be good to yourselves, darlings, and know that you're seen and loved, even when it doesn't always feel that way. (I said this last year too and needed the reminder myself.)  
> Love,  
> Mal


End file.
